Chapter Text
Thick clouds blanketed the autumn sky in a dense layer as Zanka, having escaped from people once again, drifted through his memories, clenching his fists so tightly his knuckles hurt. His teeth chattered uncontrollably, and self-disappointment filled his hardened soul.
The first raindrop landed on his nose, making him flinch and breaking his concentration—a critical moment, for as soon as he opened his eyes, a figure that had suddenly appeared before him made him instinctively tighten his grip on his Lovely Assistaff.
"Yo, Zanka." Enjin bent slightly over the tense Zanka, smiling carefreely. "Bad timing?"
"No..." Zanka tried to calm his still-restless heart. Slowly relaxing his fingers on the weapon, he looked down, studying the asphalt he sat on with unnatural interest. With each second, more raindrop traces appeared. "Just thinking."
"I see."
Zanka felt the cold water slowly trickling down his cheeks, flushed from the cold. With a glassy stare, he watched each lonely drop vanish into the ground until an umbrella was held over him.
"What are you thinking about?" And there it was again. Enjin's voice always became so serious and deep when he tried to delve into someone's soul. Every time, it sent the same unpleasant shivers down Zanka's spine.
"The usual," Zanka shrank, hugging his knees. He couldn't bring himself to look at his mentor, preferring to pretend he was invisible.
Maybe it really would be better to just disappear, wouldn't it? Deep down, he knew he wasn't the burden he thought he was, but something prevented him from thinking rationally. Perhaps he was too attached to the past, as if, even after climbing out of the well, a part of him remained there, rotting and dying in the cold.
"You're thinking too loudly," Enjin squatted down beside him, deftly holding the umbrella over them both. "I can already hear all your dramatic, poetic thoughts."
Enjin laughed, and Zanka felt awkward. His blue irises cleared a little, and he raised his head, still lacking the courage to look back at Enjin. A few long seconds passed before he hesitantly began to search for words.
"I don't know what I'm living for," Zanka didn't stammer but couldn't speak louder than a whisper. His hands, wrapped around his trembling knees, tensed and shook. "I don't enjoy anything I do. Every day, I fall asleep hoping my eyes won't open tomorrow. And..."
Taking a deep breath, he met his mentor's thoughtful gaze. Realizing he was truly being listened to, he continued:
"I can't shake the feeling that this will never end."
The noise of the increasing downpour filled the space around them. Both were silent, and Zanka, already regretting his words, tried with all his might not to purse his parched lips.
"I understand," Enjin's hoarse voice, despite the surrounding noise, was very expressive, piercing through. "Your experience gives you the feeling that you'll never be able to find what makes you value your life."
Enjin narrowed his eyes perceptively, and Zanka felt as if under a surgical scalpel. His soul trembled at the fact that the object of his admiration truly accepted him and was trying to untangle the knot of his confused thoughts.
"But you're still just as human as the rest of us, Zanka," Enjin smiled unexpectedly. It wasn't one of his usual smiles. Something soft and nurturing shone through so easily that Zanka involuntarily calmed down. "You feel empty, but you can still feel. Can you name things you find beautiful?"
"Beautiful?"
"Yes. The kind that take your breath away," Enjin grinned conspiratorially, tilting his head.
"Well..."
Zanka thought. As he understood, he didn't have to talk about events involving people. It could be, for example...
"Fireworks...?" Zanka began very uncertainly, almost hitting himself in the face for it. How he regretted starting this awkward dialogue. Now he felt infantile.
"Great!" Enjin patted Zanka encouragingly on the shoulder, causing him to freeze and hold his breath. "What do you feel when you see fireworks?"
"Actually, I haven't seen many. In childhood, I could rarely afford anything besides training," his pensiveness helped Zanka distract himself from his depressed state, and he continued more confidently. "But when my family went to festivals, I always waited for the fireworks. The first time I saw them was bewildering. I don't like loud noises, I've never been a fan of anything so bright."
Zanka immersed himself in memories and smiled for the first time that day.
"Yet, for some reason, I froze and couldn't look away. It felt like something distant, close to the heavens. I reached out my hand and felt," Zanka looked at his palm and then slowly clenched it, "hope."
Zanka heard Enjin laugh softly. Then, still holding the umbrella over them both, Enjin straightened up and looked somewhere ahead.
"Hope is a good feeling," a pause, after which Enjin lowered his gaze to his student again. "We humans are rewarded with the ability to find beauty in things and derive from them what we later call our meaning."
The downpour began to slowly subside, turning into an autumn drizzle. Enjin closed Umbreaker, twirling it deftly in his hand. Cool drops fell on Zanka's pale skin, but somehow no longer seemed so lonely.
"Allow yourself to keep watching fireworks, Zanka. Perhaps in the future, you'll find what you consider your personal firework."
Enjin managed to disappear before Zanka could ask a clarifying question about the last phrase. Personal firework? Was it a hint about an event or a person? Or maybe both?
But it didn't really matter now. Zanka felt he could breathe evenly again. He didn't even notice when the awkwardness evaporated, and now only a feeling of vague gratitude warmed his chest.
***
Jabber burst into his life like a firework. Bright, loud, breathtaking. Their first one-on-one fight was remembered by him in a strange way. Usually, his thoughts after any fight returned to analyzing his own mistakes and possibilities for improving his skills. Unlike most of his colleagues, he perceived his position as a Cleaner as a primary duty, an ordinary job, without any privileges for "personal purposes." But in this case... his thoughts seemed to disobey him, stopping at evaluating Jabber himself, his fighting style, his repulsive genius. The work seemed to fade into the background, though Zanka told himself that such interest in an enemy's fighting style was normal. What if they met again?
"What if I meet him again..." Zanka muttered under his breath, clutching a book in his hands, a single page of which he had been reading for over an hour.
Someone knocked on his door. Today was a day off, so many Cleaners were outside the base, busy with their own affairs. Of course, they could be called at any moment due to unforeseen circumstances, but still, rest from patrol duties was also part of their schedule.
"Come in..." Zanka tensed, putting the book aside. He had no idea who might need him at this time. He had only recently gotten back on his feet after the fight with Jabber and now wanted to focus on himself.
"Hey, Zanka," Riyo appeared in the doorway. She always moved deftly, silently, without unnecessary movements, which often unsettled Zanka when she suddenly appeared nearby. "How are you feeling?"
"Fine. Need something?" Zanka tried with all his might to seem friendly, but didn't have the strength to smile.
"Just bored, thought I'd drop by," Riyo quickly scanned the room. Her gaze stopped on the book lying near Zanka, convincing her that her partner hadn't been busy with anything serious before her arrival.
"Okay, come in," Zanka moved over on the bed. Though he preferred solitude, Riyo's company was always pleasant for him.
Riyo sat down next to him, adjusting her clothes. She was silent for a while, looking at the floor, but then slowly began to speak:
"I don't want to beat around the bush and will ask the question that interests me right away," Riyo turned her head to Zanka. Her delicate face was thoughtfully clouded. "What did you think of the fight with Jabber? According to our information, he's one of the strongest among the Raiders. And I was curious about what you felt while fighting him."
The question didn't surprise Zanka, especially coming from Riyo. He intertwined his fingers, trying to pretend he hadn't been thinking about it for the past few days.
"Well, truth be told, he's just another genius," Zanka leaned his elbows on his knees, lowered his head, and tangled the fingers of his left hand in his hair. "I was overconfident enough to think I could beat him. But, as you can see, it turned out completely opposite. I got a beating."
He gave a nervous chuckle, and Riyo frowned.
"I see... But what about the fight itself? Maybe there was something special. Because that guy seemed like a completely insane type to me."
"Yeah, that's right," Zanka nodded to himself, clasping his hands again. His gaze was still fixed on the floor, now filled with disgust. "He's an absolute freak."
"During the fight with him, I felt like I was fighting something that can't be held in hands. He either slips through fingers or starts burning so much you can't stand it. Plus, he's a total masochist. When you manage to hurt him, it feels like you're only losing more because that bastard either laughs or contorts in a satisfied grimace."
Riyo laughed loudly, slapping Zanka on the shoulder. However, Zanka wasn't impressed. He was so immersed in memories that he couldn't stop talking.
"He's also obsessed with fighting. He kept babbling about 'weak opponents' he couldn't fully open up against. He said I was the one he longed to see on the battlefield. He said..."
Zanka pondered. How well did these words describe Jabber? Insane? Yes. Obsessed? Definitely yes. Passionate about his work and fighting? Also yes...
And then Zanka truly froze. For the first time, it occurred to him that Jabber fought like that not because he was insane or something like that. That was more the underpinning of his behavioral character. In reality, Jabber always acted deliberately, giving himself fully to the fight, with all his soul. Just like...
"I myself..." Zanka clenched his trembling palms into fists, biting his lip. Now he understood why he couldn't leave this fight in the depths of his consciousness. The duel gave him a sense of completeness. He acted, thinking he could hold nothing back and do whatever he wanted. He unconsciously felt understood and accepted. Accepted even in ways he himself couldn't fully accept.
"Zanka~a!" Riyo waved a hand in front of Zanka's glassy face, trying to get his attention. "What are you muttering to yourself? You went silent so abruptly that I'm worried now. Are you really okay?"
"Yes!" Zanka hastily raised his head. The sudden realization filled him with disgust mixed with embarrassment. He didn't know how to react, so he made a mental note to return to these thoughts later. "Sorry, just lost in thought. Anyway, Jabber's insane. He should definitely be avoided if you happen to meet him. Fighting him was... memorable, but only because he fights like a psycho."
"Uh-huh..." There was something in that "uh-huh" that Zanka found terribly unsettling. Riyo's gaze became so penetrating, and in harmony with her barely noticeable smile, reminded Zanka of Enjin. "I see. Thanks for satisfying my curiosity."
"No problem..." Zanka muttered. He didn't like being stared at so intently. It felt as if Riyo knew something Zanka himself didn't.
In the end, they chatted for a while about superficial topics, including the usual Cleaner daily life. When Ryo left, it was already late evening, and Zanka decided to leave his plans to finish the book for better days.
***
He woke up to a knock on the window. He lived on the second floor, so throwing something up that high wasn't difficult. But what Cleaner would do such a thing? Especially at such a late hour.
Zanka sat up in bed and looked at the clock. It was three in the morning. He grumbled under his breath, preparing for something definitely unpleasant. Maybe Rudo had a night-time psychotic episode and decided to throw trash around? He wouldn't be surprised but would be angry. Especially if the trash he was throwing was pre-smeared in shit.
However, before Zanka could fully get out of bed, something hit his window again. Now it was clear that the previous knock hadn't been an accident. If this was someone's joke, Zanka wasn't going to spare this nighttime joker. After waking up, he was always a bit more irritable than usual.
"Hey!" Zanka opened the window and froze. Right under the window, in the shadow of trees and bushes, stood...
"Jabber...!?"